Between Two Promises

by Shelter Somerset

  “I haven’t done anything to him.” Kevin sniveled. “Please, I didn’t do anything.”

  “Tell me where he is—now.”

  “I don’t know, I swear.”

  “Your swears mean nothing to me.” The rage boiled up in Daniel, steaming the inside of his heavy jacket. He never recalled experiencing so much hatred, so much fury, toward one human.

  Daniel seized him by his shirt collar. Kevin’s breath was sour and rancid with booze. Badly, he wanted to strike him. Kevin was a revolting man. He’d never liked him, never trusted him. Now, he knew why. Yet years of being taught pacifism made doing what he yearned to do, what seemed to be welling from the pit of his stomach, impossible. He had never struck another human being in his life. His upbringing won. Daniel released Kevin’s collar and eased off. Kevin slumped over the printer stand.

  Suddenly Kevin heaved out his stomach and sputtered daring words, as if Daniel’s backing off was a victory for him.

  “I know about all your secrets, Daniel Schrock,” he said, smirking up at him from his exaggerated stance. “I know about you and Aiden. Wouldn’t it be something if everyone else learned the truth, huh? How would you like that? I’m a newspaperman. I can tell everyone anything I want. I can even fudge the truth some, how would you like that? How would you like it if I printed everything Aiden found during his investigation, but instead of pointing the finger at the Reverend Yoder, I indict you? I can do that, you know? I’m a newspaper man. Watch how fast the community believes it. People believe anything they read. All they have to do is see it in print, and it’s as good as God speaking to them. And when they find out you’re a queer, they’ll convict you without thinking twice. Your life will be over. You’ll never see your family again.”

  Daniel battled against using every ounce of his masculine strength to overtake the little man. His threats of blackmail meant nothing to Daniel. He despised him more than the devil.

  Holding back his fury, he dashed from the office and unhitched Gertrude, shouting for her to get moving even before he hopped in the buggy and grabbed for the reins. This time Daniel ignored the English traffic lights. He had Gertrude galloping off in such a hurry her forelegs nearly brushed her hip straps.

  Her shoes kicked up chunks of snow at the buggy’s window. Instinctively, Daniel switched on the battery-operated windshield wipers. Despite being out most of the day with Samuel and the recent gallop into town, Gertrude raced down the snowy lanes like a champ, but when Daniel steered her down one lane, she hesitated. She was confused. She had never been down this part of the county before.

  “Get, girl, get!” Daniel jerked the reins, near standing in the buggy.

  She seemed to sense her driver’s urgency and pushed through the wall of cold. Thick shots of steam curled from her flailing nostrils. Daniel encouraged her faster.

  For an instant, he pictured Aiden dimly in his mind, standing like a statue with an arm raised, as if to wave goodbye. The vision was strange, but it raced by him as fast as the snow-covered trees and white picket fences of the farmhouses.

  He must call 911 to have the police arrest Kevin. Whatever had happened, whatever connection Kevin might have to Aiden’s disappearance and the threats, the police would help find answers. And help find Aiden and put an end to the agony that had stalked them both for more than a year.

  He reached into his jacket. Switching the reins from hand to hand, he groped around inside the pockets. Frustrated, he shoved his hands into his pants pockets. Where was that boogered cell phone?

  In a flash, he visualized the phone sitting where he had last left it. On the night table, back in David’s bedroom. Chastising himself for leaving it behind and for needing modern technology, he grabbed the reins with both hands and shouted Gertrude onward with more force in his voice. He squeezed the reins so tight his nails dug into his palms.

  They came to an impasse. The buggy skidded to the side, spewing a wave of snow and gravel. He jerked Gertrude to turn around. Kevin lived down one of these streets. But which one? They all looked alike.

  Tire tracks from buggies and a few English vehicles cut into the snow-covered lane. He was certain one of the tire tracks belonged to Kevin’s sturdy Buick. They were fatter and deeper than the other two tracks. Few English lived in that part of the county.

  He urged Gertrude onward, keeping a sharp eye on the fat tire tracks he figured must belong to Kevin. He passed a slow-moving automobile, something he had never done before while driving a buggy. He worried for a moment he was following the wrong trail, but he realized the Honda Accord had tires almost as trim as a buggy’s.

  Down another bend, another lane, panting, wheezing, snow-packed gravel spitting up from Gertrude’s hooves and the buggy’s wheels. Finally, Kevin’s farmhouse lay ahead. He recognized the newspaperman’s small green barn, the only barn he’d ever seen painted such an absurd color.

  He steered Gertrude into the driveway. After setting the brake, he grabbed a woolen horse blanket from the back and draped it over the mare’s lathered midsection, steaming from the strenuous gallop. A knot tightened his throat. He looked around for Kevin’s Buick. Two separate tire tracks crisscrossed halfway up the driveway from cars pulling in and out. Both tracks he recognized from the lane coming off the main thoroughfare. The slimmer pair of tracks looked fresh. He ran his bare finger along the imprints. He was unsure, but he thought he could detect a slight whiff of unleaded gasoline.

  Glancing around, he suppressed disgust at the farm’s decay. Even with the snow covering the small field, clearly no one had cultivated the land in many years. Tawny cocklebur and other weeds pushed through the snow. Kevin lived there merely to have space, space he didn’t even use as God intended. Death permeated that fallow field.

  Something compelled him to step to the broken-down wooden fence and gaze over the snow-blanketed field. What was he looking for? Deer tracks crossed the snow. In the distance, a buck that had survived the hunting season fed on the cocklebur. The buck paused and looked up, peering at Daniel across the field.

  Shaken, Daniel jerked himself into action and jogged to Kevin’s detached garage. Rattling open the overhead door, he was relieved to discover it unlocked and subsequently empty of any cars. After a careful scrutiny inside and finding nothing curious, he hurried to the small green barn.

  Snowdrifts pushed against the swing door. No one had opened the barn door in a day or two. Smooth human prints and elongated grooves indicated someone had been stomping by the door before the latest snowfall. He cleared a snow path with his boots and bare hands. Clenching his fists by his sides, he kicked open the door. He was even more disgusted than before. Like the neglected field, the dim barn was in total disarray, hardly used for any purpose. The smell of livestock had long faded. Only the fetid odor of decay remained.

  Hay piles rotted in a corner near the old stalls, most likely left from the previous owners before Kevin had bought the place ten years ago, after he’d moved back to his hometown from Indianapolis. Allegedly to flee from big city corruption. Daniel kicked aside the old farming tools and decomposed oats oozing from equally decayed canvas sacks. A rabbit hutch lay in tatters in a heap of lumber. Rusty modern farming equipment in various states of disrepair was scattered across the battered ground. Snow fell from the tattered roof.

  Rustling in the rafters overhead spooked him. He looked up, his heart sputtering. Nothing but a flock of nesting ravens. He noticed a huge spider web in a corner of the loft glinting in the fading daylight. Egg sacs, heavy with larva, were waiting to release thousands of spiderlings in the spring. Dismayed by the rot, he squeezed his eyes to adjust to the dimming light. He knew searching for a usable light switch would be pointless.

  He had no idea what he was looking for. Clues? Anything to help him sort out what might’ve happened to Aiden. His thoughts were as disorganized as inside the barn. He should probably find a way inside Kevin’s house, at least use the phone to call the police. Kevin was likely close on his trail.

&
nbsp; The moment he was about to turn for the house, something from the fetid, loose pile of hay snatched his attention. He cocked his head and, yanking on his beard, edged closer.

  A strange color materialized from inside the pile, unlike what hay should look like, even in its most decomposed state. It was greenish, maybe blue, in color. A manmade color. Nothing God or nature would have created that would hide itself in a pile of rancid hay in the midst of winter.

  Dropping to his knees, he dug through the pile. Immediately he hit something hard and rounded. Grabbing onto it, he pulled it from the pile. Why should someone want to bury a new-looking snow shovel? A dried brownish stain near the blunt end perplexed him. He set the shovel aside and dug through more hay toward the strange green-blue color.

  Damp, smelly hay flew into the air like the stalks from a threshing machine. The ravens squawked overhead. Sweat flowed from his pores despite the cold. His breath came in shots of steam.

  He froze. He could hardly believe his eyes. No accounting for the horror wrenching up in his chest.

  Vomit near raced into his throat.

  His hands trembled unrecognizably, as if they were touching death itself.

  Slowly, he dragged from the pile of hay a duffel bag. A black duffel bag with an annoying turquoise stripe. Aiden’s duffel bag.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  HIS instincts had been right. Kevin Hassler had not taken Aiden to the airport. The newspaperman had brought him to his home—against Aiden’s will. He had done something horrible to him and had aimed to cover his tracks.

  Daniel stared at the duffel bag, as if he were gazing upon Aiden himself. He wanted to look inside, yet he hesitated.

  A horrible odor pushed him back, nearly onto his haunches. The odor was unmistakable. The stink of death. Decomposing flesh. He had smelled that stench many times, growing up on a farm. An overpowering rancid odor of the animals that had died overnight, or from one of the many deer in the area that lay struck on the side of the roads from Englishers’ vehicles.

  Shaking, he began to unzip the bag, moving gradually should whatever he find inside destroy his world forever. The rotting carcass of a raven lay by his boot. It must’ve fallen from a rafter into the hay pile months ago. He’d uncovered it without knowing. Sighing with relief that that was what he had smelled, he kicked the raven’s remains across the barn and attacked the duffel bag more confidently. Inside he found Aiden’s clothes untouched. Shoved on the bottom, hidden under T-shirts and underwear, was his cell phone, the battery dead.

  He tossed the duffel bag aside and hurried for the house, his boots barely touching the snow-covered footpath to the front door. He did not bother to knock. In an instant, the door hung on its hinges. The pain in his right foot from having kicked in the door barely bothered him as he gazed about the small bungalow. The house looked as if no one had cleaned it in weeks. Dishes piled in the sink. Dirtied bowls sat on the counter and kitchen table. A smell of body odor was thick in the air.

  Faint light from the windows only distracted him, casting shadows and tricking him into thinking someone—or something—was there when there wasn’t. He twisted about, unsure what to expect. His heart pounded in his chest. Dread left his mouth dry.

  He switched on the hallway light and edged his way upstairs.

  “Aiden? Aiden Cermak? Are you here?”

  The doors to the three bedrooms upstairs gaped open. The master bedroom was unkempt, the bed unmade and dirtied clothes tossed about. A typical bachelor home. Closets were empty of anything peculiar. Underneath beds he found only dust and boxes full of junk. Aiden was nowhere.

  “Aiden? Aiden?”

  Downstairs in the kitchen, he faced the door to the basement. Locked. He tired of locked doors. The door hinge was decayed, and he needed little effort to jimmy it open with his bare hands. The light switch failed to work. Click, click. Nothing. Using what light oozed from the kitchen, he eased down the stairs, his hand sliding along the railing, inching his way into the darkness. The room temperature dropped at least twenty degrees at the bottom of the stairs. He could see the silver of his breath.

  Narrowing his eyes to cut through the murkiness, he shuffled along the basement floor, careful to avoid the clutter. He peered around, looking for any sign to help him answer the nagging questions of Aiden’s whereabouts. A heavy stench hovered over him. Mildew, grease, human sweat.

  Panic choked him.

  A rustle. A murmur.

  “Aiden?”

  Daniel edged nearer a corner. He screwed up his eyes. Something pulsated there. Something emitting a slight warmth.

  He peered at the dark silhouette of what looked like the shape of a man. He pushed aside a few boxes, some old tools, a mop.

  Two small white orbs glared up at him. The whiteness belonged to a pair of eyes. Vacant, large, gaping eyes. Unblinking, death-like eyes. Golden eyes. Honey-brown eyes. Eyes the color of the sunset.

  Aiden Cermak’s eyes.

  He dropped to his knees.

  “Aiden, I found you, I found you.”

  Daniel threw himself on top of him, incapable of processing everything taking place. He went to gather Aiden into his arms but realized Aiden’s arms and legs were bound with rope and tied to a pillar. “Ach, Aiden. Aiden….”

  He stroked Aiden’s curly hair, murmuring how much he had been afraid for him, and noticed the knot on his head, along with the caked blood.

  “I’m so sorry,” Daniel whispered, lying over Aiden’s cold body, trying to provide him with warmth. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

  “Is it you?” Aiden uttered, his voice breaking.

  “Yes, yes, it’s me.”

  “I… I didn’t think you’d come.”

  “I’m here, I’m here.”

  “I was wrong,” Aiden murmured into Daniel’s chest. “It wasn’t Reverend Yoder who killed Kyle.”

  “I know, I know.” Daniel sniffed back tears. His trembling arms clamped around Aiden. He stripped off his jacket and draped it over Aiden’s torso.

  “It was Kevin,” Aiden muttered. “I figured it out on the way to the airport, while he was driving me. I… I had told him about the threats but didn’t give him any details. He knew about everything that happened. How would he know all that, unless… unless he’d… he’d done it? I… I could understand how he might know about the pumpkin, the spray painted message on my door, in a small town like this. But how would he know about the letter left in my mailbox? The one left at the inn? I mentioned it to him. He panicked. He drove me here against my will, and when I tried to fight back, he hit me with a shovel. It was Kevin. He killed Kyle. I… I was right about Kyle not committing suicide. I told you he didn’t. Kevin killed him. I don’t know why. But he killed him.”

  Daniel caressed Aiden’s cold cheeks. “Now try to be still,” he whispered. “I got to untie these ropes and get you upstairs where it’s warm and call 911.”

  “It was Kevin… Kevin the whole time,” Aiden went on dazedly while Daniel fumbled with the ropes in the dark. “He was the one who threatened me, to get me to stop investigating. On the way to the airport, I figured everything out. All that he knew, all that stuff about the threats. There was no way unless he had been there. Unless he had been the one who had done it.”

  “It’s okay now. I’m going to get you out of here. You’re safe now. Nothing to worry about anymore.” Kevin had done a good job ensuring Aiden stayed put. Daniel struggled to untie the ropes.

  Fighting back raging curses, Daniel had to get Aiden out of the house before Kevin showed. Kevin would be close on his trail. They were not yet safe. He did not relay that likelihood to Aiden.

  “I… I didn’t think you would know where I was,” Aiden said. “I thought I’d die here. I did my best to get out, I really did. After a while, I gave up. I was so weak. I didn’t think you’d ever find me.”

  “I didn’t guess until I found that note in your laptop. Why didn’t you tell me someone had left you another threat?” Dan
iel yanked on the knots. “Why?”

  “I thought you didn’t care,” Aiden said, his head lopping to the side as Daniel sat him upright to untie his hands. “I thought maybe you were glad I was gone.”

  “I was glad you were gone, but not for why you think,” Daniel said. “I admit I had fears about being outed to the community, of losing what I know here. But mostly I feared what might happen to you. Those threats you got last year, I was so afraid whoever made them might come back for you. That’s the main reason why I didn’t want to come back here for Mark’s wedding. That’s why I haven’t wanted everyone to know about us. Don’t you see? I was right all along too. I was right all along. Why didn’t you listen to me? Why didn’t you listen?”

  “I thought you didn’t want me to come to Henry because… because you were embarrassed by me. I thought you didn’t love me.”

  “I thought you didn’t love me either,” Daniel said. “I thought you left me for good.” He tossed the last of the ropes into a corner and clasped Aiden’s shoulders. “When I realized I mighta lost you forever, I didn’t care about nothing. I didn’t even care about being shunned. The only thing that matters is that I have you in my life.”

  “You saved me,” Aiden said, his head wobbling from side to side.

  “You saved me once too, remember?” Daniel hoisted Aiden into his arms to carry him upstairs. “I figure I’m returning the favor.”

  Just then, Aiden’s eyes widened, and a strange sound emanated from his mouth, like a yelp from an injured kitten. He pointed a shaky finger over Daniel’s shoulder.

  “Behind you… behind you….”

  Daniel followed Aiden’s gape. The woman from Kevin’s office, Carolyn, edged toward them. Her face twisted in a greasy grin, the snow shovel he had found in the barn clasped in her hands. Daniel’s mind whirled. Why was she there? What was going on?

  Carolyn crept closer, a hulking figure emerging from the murkiness. Her eyeglasses reflected the scant light in the basement, giving her the look of a fiery-eyed demon. Something shiny like snot ran out her nose and down her chin.